There is something about this time of year that just feels made for watching TV. Maybe it is the weather, the cold, the holiday spirit, or the fact that my college finals are around the corner, but whatever the reason, people seem to gravitate toward television as the year winds down. For me, this time of year always includes a ritual. When the assignments start piling up and the pressure hits, I throw on comfort shows in the background while I work. My usual rotation includes How I Met Your Mother, Curb Your Enthusiasm, and most relevant to this article, Seinfeld.
On a recent rewatch I stumbled into one of my favorite episodes, “The Seven.” It is classic George Costanza at his most delusional and oddly charming. In the episode, George and his fiancée are brainstorming baby names for their future children and for her pregnant cousin. George first suggests the name Soda, which everyone immediately mocks. Then he unveils his masterpiece: Seven. It is unique, it is meaningful, and it is a tribute to Mickey Mantle, George’s idol and the legendary Yankees center fielder who wore number seven for nearly two decades.
Every character laughs at George’s choice. Jerry jokes that the kid would get seven stitches after the seven beatings they would take at school every day. George’s fiancée shuts the idea down hard and says no child of hers will ever be named Seven. Meanwhile, the two B-plots carry on in perfect Seinfeld fashion. Newman acts as a sort of King Solomon trying to settle a dispute between Elaine and Kramer over who should get a bike. Jerry sabotages his own relationship because the woman he is dating keeps wearing the same dress. And at the end of the episode, Seven does become the name of a newborn child. But it is not George’s child. Instead, his fiancée’s cousin steals the name for her baby. The episode closes with George frantically begging her to reconsider while she is literally in labor, desperate to preserve the name’s uniqueness.
As absurd as it all sounds, if any baseball legend would inspire people to name their kids after a number, it would be Mickey Mantle.
Mantle is one of those rare athletes who transcends the sport he played. Part of that comes from the era he belonged to. Part of it comes from the outsized stories about his life away from the field. Mantle is not remembered simply as a baseball player. He exists in an almost mythic space. Half the stories about him feel made up. The other half feel too unbelievable to have actually happened. The comparison may seem odd, but Mantle is to baseball what JFK is to the presidency. Both have become serialized versions of themselves, with more tabloid-like fascination surrounding their lives than honest historical analysis.
That is unfair to Mantle though, because he was not just a cultural figure. He was one of the best players who ever lived.
During his eighteen year career with the Yankees, Mantle was more than great. He was generational. He accumulated 110 WAR, which places him comfortably in the top fifteen position players of all time. His peak from 1955 to 1962 can stand beside the peak years of any player in baseball history. Over that eight year stretch, Mantle averaged 8.8 WAR, won three MVP awards, finished in the top five four more times, and posted a ridiculous 189 OPS+. He even captured the Triple Crown in 1956.
Over his full career, Mantle hit .298 with a .977 OPS, more than 500 home runs, more than 1500 RBIs, and he played strong defense. And he did all of that despite playing through brutal injuries, including a knee injury that would have ended most careers. Mantle suited up anyway and remained a star. He was the defining player of his generation and the face of baseball. It makes perfect sense that his name, image, and number would stick in the public consciousness long after his career ended.
And George may have been onto something. In 2021, according to a baby name database, the name Seven ranked as the 860th most common boys name. That may sound low, but it is shockingly high for a number. Only two other numbers, three and five, had more than five boys named after them, while seven had 270. And for perspective, 860th is higher than both of our names. Brad ranked 3222nd and Emile ranked 1843rd. Even André 3000 and Erykah Badu named their son Seven a year after the Seinfeld episode aired, although it is only rumored that the show inspired them.
Pop culture has always influenced baby names. Characters from books, movies, TV shows, and video games have shaped American naming trends for decades. But Seven feels different. It feels like the perfect storm. The Seinfeld episode is beloved. Mantle is legendary. The name is simple, unique, and surprisingly clean sounding. And because it straddles both cultural comedy and sports mythology, it carries a charm most novelty names never do.
So maybe George Costanza was right. Maybe Seven really is a great name.
And maybe Mantle, larger than life in so many ways, was always destined to shape baby names almost sixty years after his peak as a ballplayer. So the next time someone asks for name ideas, toss out your favorite athlete’s number. You never know which small moment or pop cultural nudge will ripple outward and become a trend.
With Mickey Mantle, it always felt like that kind of crossover was inevitable.
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